


Beannachtai na Feile Padraig Oraibh!

by fhsa_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Alternate Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-05-27
Updated: 2004-05-27
Packaged: 2019-02-05 15:34:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12797400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fhsa_archivist/pseuds/fhsa_archivist
Summary: Notes - A happy St. Patrick's Day to you all!This has not been beta read as I am in a race to complete it before St. Patrick's Day ends.I have played fast and loose with geographical and historical facts to make this one work, but there is a basis of truth in it all.So may I raise a virtual glass of cheer to each and every one of you to honour the Saint.





	1. part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Haven, the archivist: This story was originally archived at [Fandom Haven Story Archive (FHSA)](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Fandom_Haven_Story_Archive), was scheduled to shut down at the end of 2016. To preserve the archive, I began working with the OTW to transfer the stories to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. If you are this creator and the work hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Fandom Haven Story Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/fhsa/profile).

Mulder drove into the small village of Derrybeg in Donegal and groaned when he noticed yet another of the new Guinness advertising posters adorning the gable end of a pub. As he had done with the every one of the other ten thousand copies of the poster they had passed on the drive up from Shannon Airport Alex chuckled. 

 

"Would you give it a rest," Mulder grumbled, beginning to lose patience. Alex glanced over at him. "Lighten up, Fox, you have to admit it's kind of weird they chose the weekend you arrived in Ireland to launch this campaign." 

 

The large sign with its velvety black background and single word caption 'BELIEVE', the 'v' being replaced by the Guinness harp logo, flashed by as Mulder accelerated past it in irritation. 

 

"One might even say 'spooky'," Alex remarked, dodging the half-hearted smack that Mulder aimed at him. "Okay, okay," he promised, "I'm letting it go." 

 

They travelled another couple of miles up the road until a large grey stone with the townland name 'Glassagh' engraved on it caught their attention and Alex said, "This is it." 

 

He took out of his pocket the directions Danny Maguire had emailed him and read them aloud. "After the sign turn left onto the coast road. Two miles along is the pub/hotel Teach Jack - good food, beer and music. Take the second road past it on the right and the last white house at the top of the hill is it. The key is in the turf store. Enjoy!" 

 

"Got it," Mulder said and several minutes later they were climbing out of the car at the top of a windswept hill. They stood for a moment taking in the panoramic sweep of the Bloody Foreland from Glencolmcille in the south to Muckish in the north. Before them lay the expanse of the Silver Strand and the stormy grey of the Atlantic Ocean. 

 

Mulder came to stand behind Alex and wrapped his arms around him. He nuzzled at a tempting earlobe and said. "See that little island?" Alex nodded. 

 

"That's Innisbofin, beyond that the next stop is Boston." 

 

Alex shivered a little from the salty, cold wind and the breathy feel of Mulder's words as they dropped into his ear. 

 

"Let's go inside," Mulder prompted and left him to go hunting for the key. He found the turf shed and key easily and went to unlock the door. Alex had lifted the bags out of the car and they carried them into the house. Mulder wasn't surprised to find that Danny had arranged for one of the neighbours to have a fire burning in the hearth and the perfume of the sweet smelling turf filled the living room. On the table in the kitchen part of the large room rested a 'welcome' basket filled with the groceries they would need to get them through the first day. Beside it was a bottle of John Power's whisky to which was attached a note. 

 

'Danny said to expect you today. I've left you some fish fresh off the 

Clarinbridge boat. If you need anything come to the green house at the foot of the hill. Siobhan O'Donnell.' 

 

Alex opened the fridge, finding inside a large salmon and dish of oysters. His mouth watered. The previous year he'd celebrated St. Patrick's Day, far away from his lover, at the parade in Moscow and had consoled himself with a dozen of the Clarinbridge oysters specially flown in from the west of Ireland for the occasion. He smiled, this year he would have Fox and the oysters, an altogether more satisfactory arrangement. 

 

He closed the fridge door and took off his jacket. Throwing it over the back of a kitchen chair he followed Mulder who was making a quick tour of the house. Apart from the large living/kitchen area and bathroom that were downstairs, there were three bedrooms, one with bathroom ensuite, upstairs. The master bedroom with its king sized Irish oak bed had a huge picture window that framed the landscape they'd enjoyed earlier. They lingered longer to watch it this time; warm and protected from the biting Atlantic wind that was sounding more like a gale with every second that passed. 

 

Already the best of the day was behind them and from the west thick, grey clouds were bundling up and being swept across the sky. Every now and then a splash of heavy rain would lash into the glass, blurring their view for a few seconds before trickling away in little rivulets towards the bottom of the pane. Out on Innisbofin the flashing brightness of a lighthouse had begun to pierce its way through the growing darkness, its powerful beam catching the top of the rising Atlantic swell. 

 

They could just discern the shape of a little fishing boat making a run for the shelter of the quay at Derrybeg, where one by one lights were coming on, twinkling like jewels through the fat raindrops on the window. 

 

Alex pulled Mulder to him and initiated a long, lush kiss. 

 

"Mmmm," he said, releasing his lover, "put me down for some more of that, but first I think we should batten down the hatches. This looks like it could turn into a real blow and Danny said the power can be unreliable at this time of year." 

 

Mulder agreed and they returned to living room to hunt for candles and matches. The emergency supplies were in the hall closet and the two of them placed candles and matches in each of the rooms they would be using. Mulder pulled the drapes closed while Alex lighted several of the candles and set them round the living room, their glow adding to the comfort of the light already spilling out from the hearth. Alex then checked the turf basket beside the fireplace. It was full, but he knew it didn't take long to burn through this kind of fuel and he decided he'd bring in another basketful. 

 

He pulled on his jacket and switched on the exterior light. The door opened into the full force of the wind and rain and he zipped up his jacket to the neck before stepping out into it. It took him a while but he eventually returned triumphant with a second creel of turf and carried it to the living room. Behind him Mulder closed and locked the front door and fetched a towel from the bathroom. Walking into the living room he found Alex stripping off his soaked jacket and muddy shoes and when he offered, Alex gratefully allowed him to attack his dripping hair with the towel. The rough towelling made the younger man grunt and left his dark hair standing on end. Mulder smiled at him as he ran his hand through it to smooth it down and out of his eyes. The gesture spurred Alex into action and he wrapped his arms round Mulder's neck and pulled him forward for a needy kiss. 

 

Mulder entered into the spirit of the moment enthusiastically and grabbed 

Alex round the waist before letting his hands wander southward to the jean-clad ass. Somewhere in his lust clouded mind he became aware of the fact that the jeans were pretty wet and before long concern for his lover made him pull away from the wonderful things Alex's tongue was doing in his mouth so he could do something about it. 

 

"These," he insisted, tugging on the waistband, "need to come off." 

 

Alex looked at him confused for a moment, but then smiled and happily complied. Just as he managed to kick off the clingy, wet denim Mulder walked away and Alex reached out to snag the waistband at the back of his pants to reel him in. 

 

"Uh-uh," he warned, applying his chilled body to that of his warm lover, "these come off too. That's only fair." 

 

"They aren't wet, Alex," Mulder told him patiently. 

 

"But they are in the way," Alex countered, reasonably. 

 

Mulder considered briefly and had to concede the point, so he kicked off his own shoes and removed his pants in one grace-filled movement. 

 

"That's a good boy," Alex praised, patting a convenient ass. "Why don't you go back to the fire?" 

 

Mulder like the clever fox that he was returned to the glowing hearth where he pulled down all the plump cushions from the couch to make a comfortable bed. Alex found the thermostat on the heating system and bumped it up four or five degrees before taking out two glasses from a kitchen cupboard, lifting the bottle of whisky and bringing it and the glasses to the nest Mulder had made. 

 

Alex looked down at his lanky lover, stretched out, stomach down, along the cushions. His feet were still clad in his white, cotton socks and his shirt was hiked up enough to reveal, in all its glory, his boxer brief contoured ass. 

 

'Perfection,' Alex thought as he sighed happily and sank down to join Mulder, placing the bottle and glasses on the floor beside them as he did so. He broke the seal on the whisky and poured out two large measures. Stretching out, he laid himself partially on top of Mulder before he picked up the two glasses. Placing one in his lover's hand he drank deeply from his own, enjoying how the fiery liquid burned a path down his gullet. 

 

Setting down the glass he turned his attention back to the man beneath him. 

Running a hand under Mulder's shirt he began firmly stroking up and down along the defined bumps of the spine while he insinuated his right leg between Mulder's. His mouth settled itself against the exposed skin of Mulder's neck where he began to nibble and lick: contemplating how a whole week of this kind of quality time lay stretched out in front of them; with no phone calls, no emails, no disasters, no near-death experiences, it was almost too sweet to bear. 

 

His hand moved downward to settle on the upswept curve of Mulder's right ass cheek and he began a sensuous massage of the firm and shapely flesh. His lover's only response was a gently rocking motion of his hips and a faint sigh and Alex knew immediately something was amiss. He levered himself up and looked over Mulder's shoulder. 

 

The man had his glasses on and was engrossed in the pages of a book that lay almost obscured under one of the pillows. Alex growled and snatched the book away to look at its cover. 

 

"Hey," Mulder complained grumpily, "I'm reading that." 

 

'The Burning of Bridget Cleary' proclaimed the dust jacket that had somehow managed to get itself torn in the unseemly tussle. 

 

"Fuck," exclaimed Mulder angrily, "I borrowed that from Georgetown 

University. Now look what you've done!" 

 

He made a grab for the book again and in the tug of war that followed the front cover became detached. 

 

"For fuck's sake, Alex," Mulder roared, "this is an out of print, virtually 

unobtainable copy. Do you know how much this is going to cost to replace?" 

Alex glowered at him and remarked coolly, "Haven't you ever heard of Scotch tape?" 

 

Mulder returned the glower and began assessing the damage. 

 

"What the hell did you bring it for anyway?" Alex demanded, his tone exasperated. 

 

The question, much to his annoyance, only set Mulder off into lecture mode. 

 

"It's a fascinating story, Alex," Mulder began, his eyes glowing with excitement. "Just over a hundred years ago Michael Cleary was hanged for murdering his wife. He claimed in his defence that it wasn't his wife who had died; that in fact the creature he killed was a changeling who had taken his wife's place. He cited the evidence that she had stopped eating and that she was had begun to limp because one of her legs was longer than the other, something considered at the time to be proof positive that a switch had been made. The fact that his wife Bridget's own father and brothers believed he was right only lends credence to . " 

 

At that point in the story Alex collapsed onto the pillows and began to snore dramatically. 

 

"Oh, fuck you, Alex . " Mulder groused. 

 

The prone man opened his eyes and smiled up seductively at his lover. 

 

"Now we're back with the program," he whispered huskily and raised himself up on his elbow in hopeful expectation. 

 

But when he saw the stubborn, grumpy expression steal over Mulder's beautiful face, the hope and the expectation evaporated into the ether. If he wanted to keep this on track, Alex decided, it was time for a different approach. 

 

"You still haven't told be why you brought it with you," he said in a conciliatory tone. 

 

"Because all this happened not very far from here," Mulder began, warming to his subject again with a speed that was breathtaking. "I was thinking we could look into some of the local records, see what's still available in the oral tradition. That's where the stories about changelings originated. You see, I've always thought that there could be another feasible explanation for this type of occurrence . " 

 

Alex tuned the rest of it out, pasted an interested look on his face and thought, 'no fucking way, Mulder, no aliens, no abductions, no changelings, no elves, no leprechauns . just two fucking fairies, with the emphasis on 'fucking'. 

 

Calmly, never breaking eye contact with his lover, he stood up and stretched indolently, making sure his shirt rode up to expose the well-endowed package straining against his silky, emerald green boxer briefs. 

 

The movement drew Mulder's gaze to the designated target with unerring precision and the flow of words faltered in the older man's mouth. 

 

Smoothly Alex intervened. "So you think we're talking possible abduction here, Fox. That early, huh?" 

 

Mulder swallowed hard and after a brief fumble began to run with the ball again. "Uh . way earlier than this, Alex, you know about the cave paintings showing space craft that are carbon dating well into Neolithic times ." 

 

Alex sauntered over to the fridge, his hips swaying in a distinctly sensual manner. He opened the door then glanced over his shoulder at Mulder. 

 

"Feeling hungry, babe?" he inquired. 

 

Mulder was definitely feeling something and hunger seemed to be the easiest way to go so he nodded yes and watched as Alex removed a dish from the fridge and set it on the table where he selected a lemon from the fruit basket. Cutting the fruit in half he placed it in the dish and sashayed his way back to Mulder. 

 

Sinking back down into the cushions. Alex struck a pose that screamed 'take me' as he placed the dish between the two of them. Thoughtfully selecting one of the oysters he lifted it from the dish and gently squeezed on a lemon half just enough to dribble its juice into the moist succulence of the mollusc. He raised the shell to his lips and from under down swept lashes asked, "You were saying Fox?" 

 

"Um . yeah . I . " Mulder spluttered as he watched his lover close his eyes, tilt his head back to expose the strong curve of his elegant throat and swallow the oyster whole. 

 

Alex took a moment to savour the unique flavour of the oyster and its delicious liquor before running his tongue slowly over his lips and sighing deeply in appreciation. 

 

When he looked back into his lover's face, it was to see him wearing an amused smirk. 

 

"Alex, you bastard," Mulder accused before launching himself bodily at the younger man. 

 

They wrestled playfully for a few seconds before Alex went limp and allowed 

Mulder to pin him to the cushions upon which he could extract the kind of revenge all lovers should seek. 

 

An hour later, sticky and sated and having enough material for a book entitled '101 Ways to Combine Oysters and Sex' they lay entwined listening to the howl of the wind around the chimney and the beating of the rain on the window. 

 

"A ghra mo chroi . " Mulder murmured into Alex's ear. 

 

"A chuisle mo chroi ." Alex replied. 

 

finis


	2. part 2

"Hurry up," Alex complained, "or we're going to be late!" 

 

In response Walter bounded down the stairs, still tucking in his shirt. ".... k, I'm ready ... " 

 

Alex was already out the door when he looked critically at his lover. 

 

"Don't you have anything green, Walter?" 

 

"What can I say? It isn't my colour." 

 

"Here ..." Alex pulled a baseball cap from his jacket pocket and reached up to place it on Walter's head, " ... Scully brought this for me from her European vacation last year." 

 

It was a rich mossy green and Walter stole a quick kiss as he adjusted the cap. 

"Thanks Alex ... let's get going, O'Casey's and Guinness await." 

 

It was a great night. Alex joined in the ceili dancing and took his turn creating rhythms on the bodhran with the traditional music group. But when he returned to their table Walter held on to him like a security blanket. 

 

"What's wrong, Walter?" 

 

"You tell me. I'm getting these looks .... " 

 

"What kind of looks?" 

 

"Surprised kind of looks ..... amused kind of looks ... and 'interested' kind of looks ... you know ..." 

 

"Oh ... those kind ... " Alex turned to face him, demonstrating such a look to perfection. Walter blushed, aware of the knowing expressions and chuckles being shared by the friends around them. He decided it was high time to go home. 

 

They wished good night to all and made their way back home. 

 

Once they were inside and the door locked, Alex pinned Walter to the wall and began a lengthy and sensuous assault using his intimate knowledge of his lover's body. Abruptly he stepped away from the breathless older man, picked up the fallen baseball cap and backed up towards the stairs. 

 

"Upstairs ... now ... I want to check this out .. " 

 

He held up the cap and Walter's vision cleared and focused unerringly on the gold coloured lettering stitched on the front. 'Irish National Stud' and below it in much smaller letters 'Co. Kildare, Ireland'. 

 

"Alex ..... " his lover growled as he pursued the hastily retreating figure. Alex threw the cap at him and bolted for the bedroom. Walter caught it in midair and stopped only when he reached the bed where he found Alex squirming out of his jeans. 

 

"Alex .... why would Scully buy you this?" 

 

"Babe ... " Alex reached up and pulled Walter down on top of him " .... you're about to find out."


End file.
